in a painting by Gérôme
some hundred and fifty years old
tiny Napoleon Bonaparte sits
on a brown horse
looking at the Sphinx
nose to no nose—
“Hello Sphinx, welcome me!
I am a great general like your Ramses.
I assure you, many French soldiers will die
so I can achieve his former glories!”
his campaign in the Orient
is at a standstill spent
under the constant desert sun
the Battle of the Nile is lost to Horatio
but the Battle of the Pyramids is won
a revolt of Cairo is put down fast
the new divan is in place, at last
so Egypt is quiet
“It is time, my friends, to go
we must search out ancient things
that Alexander might have touched
to see what Enlightenment they bring!”
Napoleon is a determined ego
and adventurous, like Indiana Jones so
he sets out with his staff and savants
to rediscover a long-lost mystery
that there is a possibility
a canal was cut in antiquity
connecting the Gulf of Suez to the Red Sea
by the Pharaohs, Senusret and Necho
“Let them say, this was the greatest day
when this expedition set out bold,
to discover secrets of the Égyptienne
for France’s glory to uphold!”
three hundred men, some with fez
march three days across Suez
in uniforms with scarves du jour
at one point they take a big detour
into Arabia to look for more
like the celebrated Fountains of Moses
but to no avail and back on the trail
they discover, in fact, that Canal of the Pharaohs
“O’ Glorious God! Thank you for my destiny!
France will have its connection to Mysore,
I will beat the British out of India and
the name of Napoleon will be one of lore!”
fulfilling its aims
and nursing its pains
heading back this expedition
survives the heat and thirst attrition
but in the tide, Bonaparte nearly drowns
and by most staff accounts
the little master expounds
that he’s destined to be an emperor
“I hate this sun, the unholy flies,
this desert and its infernal sand.
Let us beat the drums, fight the Turks
and go invade the Holy Land!”
in a painting by Gérôme
some hundred and fifty years old
tiny Napoleon Bonaparte sits
on a white camel
looking out at the Suez
le misérable—
“These were painted by Gérôme some
hundred and fifty years after I died.
I wish I could tell you that I like them, yet
they are not quite grand enough… for my pride.”